His Salvation
by TaintedAngel2923
Summary: It's been ten years since all hell broke loose. The Harmons and the other ghosts continue their existences peacefully, except for Tate and several others. When someone new decides to buy the house, all the ghostly inhabitants are baffled by her lack of response to their antics. Can this woman save the ghosts, and help repair Tate's scarred soul? (Tate/OC) Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: So I don't own any of the characters except my own...**

**AN: I just finished watched the first season of AHS last night and I was moved enough to write a oneshot.**

**I really don't think this is gonna turn out to be anything more. I mostly wanted to create a better ending for Tate, and everyone else.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Beautiful<em>, is all that he can think as he silently watches the new tenant from the shadows. All the ghosts within the Murder House sense something different about her as she unpacks her few boxes. Usually, the Harmon family and Moira put on a show to scare all the new buyers away, but they have not done so, mostly because they heard her say when she was looking at the house she knew how many people died here, and that she planned on setting them free.

Moira is for her staying on the spot, but the Harmon's and others more skeptical. However, when they begin their "freak show" she doesn't seem fazed at all, and merely tells them to go away, which means that she knows exactly what she's dealing with, leaving everyone quite perplexed.

Violet is the first to befriend the woman, who looks to be no older than nineteen. Haven is later welcomed into the Harmon family, while Tate and the rest of the ghosts are left out. Then one day, the family is gone. Tate looks everywhere for Violet, but can't find her, leaving him devastated: the only thing that ever mattered to him is gone. He makes his way to the room that was his at one point, and Violet's. Once he's curled up on the bed, letting his tears soak the pillow beneath his head, he feels a hand run through his hair, gentle and soothing.

"She has moved on to a better place, Tate. She's no longer stuck here; she's free from all the horrors that would have haunted her," a soft, feminine voice tells him. He slowly rolls over on the bed to see the woman, Haven, standing over him with a sad look upon her face. She leans down and presses a barely-there kiss to his forehead before leaving the room so that Tate can have his time to grieve the loss of his love.

Ever so slowly, the ghosts that are trapped in the house are disappearing one after the other. Tate realizes that Haven is setting them free, letting them move on to a better place, one in which they aren't trapped in each other's company.

Hayden likes to taunt him then, saying that Haven would never want to free him, for he is a monster. He silently agrees with her, but also knows Hayden is a monster herself. When Haven does get around to "cleansing" the house of Hayden, it's rather abrupt. Tate watches from the shadows as Hayden screams insults at the young woman, who does nothing but stand there with her arms crossed over her chest and a raised eyebrow.

"Are you done yet?" She asks, clearly through with Hayden's antics.

"How _dare _you! You stupid bitch! I'm gonna-" and Hayden is cut off when Haven slaps a hand on her head and says some words in a musical language Tate has never heard before. Then Hayden bursts into flames and begins to be dragged through the floorboards, screaming, to a place that is much worse than Haven's been sending everyone else.

A few days later, the Gazebo outside is torn down and Haven digs up the grave of both Hayden and Moira. She calls the police and has the body of Hayden planted in the ground at a cemetery, while she has Moira cremated. Tate is left alone for a few days, making him miss her presence while she is away scattering Moira's ashes in the ocean, making sure the maid is free form any torment.

When she returns he's there to greet her with a smile, wondering when his turn will come. She hugs him and kisses his cheek before asking if he wants to help her free Beau, which he immediately agrees to. The two young adults make their way upstairs to the attic where they find Beau wanting to play.

"Beau?" She asks ever so sweetly. "How would you like to play somewhere special? Somewhere better than this house where you can be free to roam, and play with as many toys as you can dream of?"

"Beau wants! Beau wants!"

She smiles softly at his younger brother, before opening her arms, offering a hug. Beau crawls his way toward her before wrapping his arms around the young woman, pressing his head against her left breast.

"Can you hear my heartbeat, Beau?"

"Beau can."

"Listen, let its rhythm wash over you; let it take you away from here," and Tate watches with wondering eyes as Beau begins to glow before he finally disappears in a flash of bright light. Tate then looks at the woman who has tears welling in her eyes, staring blankly at the space, which once held Beau. Tate moves forward cautiously, tentatively reaching out to pull the woman into an embrace. She falls heavily into his arms, sobbing quietly into his chest.

"There's been so much suffering and pain here… so much... I can hardly stand it."

She continues crying quietly, and talking in broken sentences that don't make sense to him, but he can tell that she has suffered just as much as the rest of them. He runs his fingers through her long auburn locks, and whispers quietly into her ear that he is there for her. And for the first time in nearly ten years, Tate feels his heart go out toward this young woman who has saved all the ghosts within the house... except for him.

She eventually cries herself to sleep, so he picks her up, and carries her to "his" room and lays her down on his bed. He tucks her in, before sitting on the floor next the bed, determined to keep watch for the rest of the night in case the house wants to disturb her sleep.

In the middle of the night she begins to toss and turn, letting out little moans here and there. Her breathing begins to escalate while her breathy noises begin to turn throaty and loud, and then she cries out his name in the throws of passion and he nearly loses it.

He stands abruptly and reaches out to wake her up. She groans in frustration before opening her eyes. When she sees the look on his face, she averts her gaze and looks bashful and guilty. "Sorry…" she whispers.

"You were dreaming of me. Why were you dreaming of me? Do you have _any_ idea of what I've done?" He asks, anger and bitterness apparent in his voice.

Her bright blue eyes immediately turn back to his. "Of course I do. You killed fifteen kids at your high school, every single person you liked. You were shot in this room, and then you began to kill the residents here, specifically when they would not provide a baby for Nora, like the gay couple. Providing a child for Nora was your motive for raping Vivien. However, you fell in love with her daughter, and have sex with her, and then she thinks she's crazy, beucase she finds out your dead. In her state of mental instability she pops a lot of pills and then dies in your arms. You couldn't save her. You even killed the man who found her body. I know you also knew you were dead, and I know that you knew _exactly_ what you did all along, you just didn't want to believe it. Which, in fact, is why Violet broke up with you, and then you nearly killed the son of the next couple who moved here so she wouldn't be alone, and then you've been pining after her for the last ten years. And now here you are, acting like a guardian to a woman in a house that has trapped you, and yet you have not tried fighting back, you have not tried to free yourself. You died here yes, but you're body has not been buried here. You've had years to figure out what's keeping you here, and yet you haven't left. Why is that Tate?"

Tate stares at her, shocked. She sits up in the bed before she pats the spot next her. He barely manages to sit down, never breaking eye contact with her. "Why have you accepted this as your fate, Tate?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally putting words together. "I… I didn't think I deserved anything better than this."

"Have you accepted all the damage, pain and suffering you've caused?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to leave this place?"

"Yes…no. I mean yes."

"Do you want to stay with me?" Tate stares into those brilliant blue eyes of hers and he sees kindness, compassion, and… love within them. He knows that he'd rather spend the rest of his time on this planet with her, than being damned to hell, which is where he knows he will end up.

"Yes."

She smiles sweetly up at him, and he feels his stomach twist into knots, something he hadn't felt with Violet. She reaches up to cup his face in her hands before pulling his head down to brush her lips against his own. "Then let go. Let it all go."

He rips the covers from her body, exposing her skin to the cold air, sending Goosebumps along her flesh as her presses fervent kisses to her lips. His hands run along every inch of skin he can reach as he presses himself firmly against her. As he nips, licks, sucks and kisses his way down her body, memories of before his death come back to him, but instead of holding onto them, and reacting to them, he lets them float past, into the oblivion that exists within his mind.

In no time their clothes are off and he is in between her legs, tasting her sweet ambrosia, remembering his time with Violet. However, he lets those memories flow by too, knowing that she's in a better place with someone who could really protect her and love her, and he, himself has found someone who understands him in ways that no one has before.

When she is wet and willing, he slowly slides inside her tight heat, and immediately he feels like he's home. Then in every thrust, every grind, every whimper, every moan, every cry that leaves her lips, he finds his redemption. Her light envelopes him in its gentle warmth, reminding him what it's like to truly feel whole again, to let everything bad go and to just _live_; something he had stopped doing so long ago.

A storm rages on outside as he continues to seek refuge within her body. Her nails dig into his back, drawing blood as she drags them down his back, release the pain that he has felt all this time. And those sweet, soft lips of hers pressing against his, moving with his, allow the words that he has held onto for so long to drift away with the wind of the storm outside.

It's a battle of light and darkness, each one trying to out due the other, but light cannot be understood without shadow, and shadow cannot exist without light, leaving the two opposing forces at an impasse, but willing to settle for living peacefully with each other. His teeth sink into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, marking her as his own. Her back arches high off the bed, as she screams her release, her walls clamping tightly around him send him over the edge, drawing the rest of his pain and suffering with his seed.

They lay there panting, with his body covering her own. She runs her fingers through his hair as they both regain their breath. She can tell he's nowhere near done, but he decides to be a "gentleman" and begins to slowly slide out of her, causing a whimper of protest to form on her lips. Her legs quickly wrap around his waist, preventing further movement.

"No," she says firmly before rolling them over, he is still erect inside her as she begins to swivel her hips. In response he throws his head back against the pillows, and lets out a throaty groan as she rides him slowly. He lays there in delicious agony as she continues her smooth, steady pace. She pins his hands above his head, interlocking their fingers as she leans down to trace his bottom lip with her tongue.

All he can think about is her. The feel of her skin against his, the way she feels around him –like hot, slick, wet velvet, – the way she smells –like ripe peaches, cinnamon and incense– and the noises she makes as she uses his own body to please herself.

He is at peace then and knows that if anything is tying him to the earth, to his existence, it's her. He already died, but he would give the rest of his "life" to her; whatever is left of his soul he would gladly hand it over to her for safekeeping.

Hours later, they lay between the sheets, their limbs tangled in the afterglow of their orgasms. She falls asleep long before he does, but he stays awake to watch her slumbering face, something he has done several times before. He traces the outline of her brows, her lips before pressing soft kisses to her closed eyes. He pulls her closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her before he slowly drifts to sleep.

Tate wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed as he stretches like a cat in bed. He looks around the room and spots Haven, naked with droplets of water sliding down her skin. He sits up on his forearms as he watches her get dressed, his eyes lazily trailing up and down her figure.

She pulls on a pair dark blue skinny jeans and steals the sweater he wore the night before to use as her shirt. She grabs the towel she left crumpled on the floor and rubs her hair to get most of the moisture out. It still remains long and dark when she's done, and he wants nothing more than to curl his fingers in it and drag her down for a kiss. She turns then and steps toward him.

She can see the glint in his eyes, but isn't startled when he snakes a hand into her hair and brings her face level with his. His mouth is hot, wet, and wild against hers. He nips her bottom lip and her knees quake, forcing her to lean on the bed so as not to fall over. He chuckles against her mouth as he drapes an arm across her waist, causing her to collapse on top of him. She knows exactly what he wants to do to her when she feels his hand snake down to the buttons on her jeans. She sits up then, leaning back on his thighs, breaking their passionate kiss to give him an exasperated look.

He tucks one arm behind his head and smirks at her as he lightly trails the tip of his forefinger of his other hand up and down her zipper, before moving to circle her nub through her jeans. She closes her eyes in bliss for a moment, before she steels herself against his advances and grabs his wrist. She looks him in the eyes, and states, "I'm selling the house."

He freezes, shocked at her bluntness. Realizing she could have said that a little better, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm not leaving you, Tate. Remember when I asked you if you wanted to stay with me?"

"I do."

"You gave up your connection to the house for a connection to me. You now exist somewhere between the living and the dead for you're piggy-backing on my existence."

"So you're going to sell the house… and I'm coming along for the ride."

She smiles, kisses his nose before responding. "Yes. I'm not going anywhere without you now."

Tate reaches up and caresses the side of her face with the back of his hand, looking up at her in absolute wonder. "You're so beautiful…" He breathes out, as he looks into the eyes of his deliverer. He knows from that point on he won't ever be alone again. She nuzzles into the palm of his hand as she smiles softly. She presses his hand against her face with one of her own before turning her head to kiss his palm.

"And now it's time for you to get dressed."

He huffs at her as she clambers off him. He slowly gets out of bed, loving the way her eyes trail down his body. He stands still for a moment, amused; as he watches her eyes glaze over in lust as she bites her bottom lip. "Are you sure you want me to get dressed? It seems you quite enjoy the view you've got right now."

She quickly snaps out of her reverie, face one fire, as she rolls her eyes at him before leaving the room. Tate heads to the bathroom, and once he sees the look in his eyes, he knows he's finally free of all the guilt, the pain, and suffering. He found his reclamation in the eyes of a woman who could free the dead of their cage.

About twenty minutes later, Tate walks downstairs to hear Haven's voice and that of Marcy discussing how best to sell the house. He walks over to the doorway and peeks in, Marcy has her back to him at the dining room table. Haven glances at him before turning her attention back to the conversation. He moves to lean against the doorframe and listens.

"Many people have died here, and it is unlikely that they'd actually want to stay if they knew what happened," Marcy states, her shrill voice. She makes Tate want to cover his ears and start saying "La la la" to drown her out.

"Their ghosts haunted this place, but now they don't, I took care of it. No one can terrorize the next buyers, for no one will live here besides them."

"What about the house itself?"

"Right now it's a blank slate. It holds nothing of the past, so therefore any happy family coming in could make it seem much brighter than it ever has been before."

The discussion is soon over, and Marcy agrees to put the house on the market right away, and Haven also tells her that once she sells it, Marcy should retire with the money Haven will pay her for all the trouble Marcy's has gone through over the years. Marcy leaves with tears in her eyes, never having expected such kindness from one of her clients. Haven shows the older woman out, giving her a gentle hug before the realtor leaves. Haven shuts and locks the door before turning to face Tate who walks silently toward her. She meets him halfway in an embrace.

They stand there, holding each other for some time, before Tate moves to rest his chin atop her head and asks a question that has been nagging him since the moment she said she wanted to leave the house. "Are you sure you want to leave?" He murmurs into the quiet of the house, the quietest that it's been since it was built.

"Yes. I know all the pain and suffering that has occurred here; I've witnessed it myself a few times. I cannot live here knowing that it trapped so many people, especially you."

Tate kisses the top of her head in understanding before running his fingers through her hair, enjoying the silky locks gliding over his skin. She hums in contentment against his neck, then he steps back from their embrace and takes her hand in his and leads her back up to their room, planning on finishing exactly what he started earlier that morning.

In the next few weeks the couple discovers that they cannot get enough of each other.

The next day after her conversation with Marcy, Haven goes grocery shopping, and when she returns, she's immediately pinned against the door. The groceries are forgotten as Tate hoists her up against the door so she's flush against him, chest to chest. Needless to say, it is sometime before the groceries are put in the fridge.

After several romps in the sheets, Haven is quite famished and decides to make dinner for herself. She makes a simple meal of mac and cheese and sits down to eat when Tate walks into the kitchen. He leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest with heat in his eyes, while Haven sits at the island. She continues to eat but is transfixed by his eyes; those smoldering dark brown depths that promise exquisite pleasure. She finishes eating quickly, wanting to have Tate in the most intimate way possible sooner rather than later. With her hunger satiated, she puts the bowl in the sink before making eye contact with Tate. She smirks slightly at him before pulling her shirt over head and letting it fall to the floor. She continues to remove articles of clothing, leaving breadcrumbs for her lover so that he may find her.

It doesn't take long for him to spot her panties, lying innocently on the floor in front of a door leading to one of the several guest bedrooms. He opens the door to find Haven face down on top of the sheets, her exposed skin glowing softly in the light of the setting sun. She remains still as he removes his clothing, and climbs onto the bed to press his bare body against hers. He rolls them onto their sides before snaking a hand between her legs, feeling how wet she already is for him makes him dizzy with need. He takes his erection in hand before guiding himself into her wet center. This time he is soft, gentle and loving. He makes her gasp and whimper instead of moan and scream. He shows her exactly how he feels now, about her, about the world and everything in between. She has given him another chance, and there is no way he is going to waste it.

Their days continues as such: packing up her small amount of things, and all the clothes he wishes to take as well, making love on any available surface whenever they're in the mood –which is often – and holding each other as a way to cope with the transition.

When prospective buyers come to look at the house, Tate leaves with Haven. She drives them to different towns so at not to raise any suspicion. They walk hand in hand down the streets, as she lets him have his fun experiencing the outside world, smiling and laughing at his childish curiosity.

When Marcy calls Haven a few days later, saying one of the people who had looked at the house made an offer, Haven takes Tate out to celebrate. They eat at cute little restaurant where they sit and talk. Tate learns more about Haven's history, how she was four when she drowned in a pool; she was dead for over a minute before her mother rescued her by preforming CPR. Ever since that day, Haven has been able to communicate with ghosts, she was around ten when she discovered how to set them free. Once her mother and father found out about her gift, they let her choose to do what she wanted with it. Haven didn't want to exploit her gift; instead she began to write books about ghosts. Some were truly fictional stories; while others were books on how to help the spirits move on. Her parents were very well off, so when she decided to get emancipated at seventeen, they gave her access to a massive trust fund.

"So you travel across the country buying haunted houses to free the spirits, then selling them and moving to another house?"

"Yes."

"When's the last time you saw or spoke to your parents."

"I spoke to them recently, after I had freed everyone except for you. But I don't believe I've seen them for over eight months."

"Maybe we should visit them first before we go looking for any new 'jobs' for you."

That night is the first time he says anything about his feelings. They're walking back her car, hand in hand when he suddenly stops. She turns to look at him, her eyes questioning.

"I feel like I've wronged you."

She looks bemused as she asks, "Why would you feel that way?"

"Here you are, spending your time with a person who is neither dead nor alive; someone you don't even know actually has feelings for you."

"And? So what if you don't have 'feelings' for me. I know you care, I can see it your eyes whenever you look at me. For some it doesn't take two weeks worth of sex, cuddling and deep conversations to fall in love. For some it takes longer."

"But it didn't," Tate states quietly, pulling her in by the hand he was already holding. His arms wrap around her waist as hers encircle his neck. "I am very sure, that I am completely head of heels in love with you."

That makes her jaw drop in astonishment. She had been watching him the moment she moved into the place. She could see all the pain he endured, as well as the guilt and the suffering. But she could also see what he missed, love and connection with someone, with people. He was alone, he had been alone for so long and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell that she would care, that she would love him; even though he had done all those terrible things. She could see the regret in his eyes. The way he slouched his shoulders when he walked told her that what he had done was weighing down on his conscience. And now here he is, smiling softly at her as her mind races.

"I love you too…" She breaths before she tangles her fingers in hair, bringing his face down to hers so she can kiss the arrogant smirk right off his face.

Two days later Haven and Tate have packed up her car, smiling at the "Sold" sign. Haven turns to him and kisses his mouth in excitement. He smiles as she pulls away, but drapes a hand on the back of her neck to pull her in for another kiss, which soon turns into something more appropriate for inside a room than in the public space of the street, but they don't care.

As the car eventually pulls out of the driveway, Tate is happier than he has ever been in his life. He places a warm hand on Haven's thigh as she navigates her way through the roads, feeling grateful toward her and the universe for finally showing mercy, and allowing him to find his salvation.

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><p><strong>So there's a definite cliff hanger here, and I did that on purpose. <strong>

**The rest of their story is for you to decide.**

**Thank you for reading!**


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